Tendrils Are Green
by Dominique Sotto
Summary: Updated: it wants to turn into series. I think. I couldn't get over the unintended hilarity of the game mechanics, so I wrote this to get it out of my head and stop laughing so hard I can't play the game. It's tiny! It's funny! It has no spoilers! It's worth a read! Well, maybe... at least to check your sense of humor against mine! Maybe I am just batty.
1. Chapter 1

Tendrils Are Green

An unusually tall woman – think REAL tall, green skin, aggressive tattoos, purple eyes- in a shiny white plate pressed her back into the wall, surveying the situation around the corner. The traps and the cords in her neck stood out as she strained to see. "Four hostiles, Sgt. Jorgan. Three o'clock is yours. On my mark!"

She tapped out the count on her rock-solid quad, thick as a Hutt: "Three, two, one, GO!" Her companion made it around her with a predatory grace and opened fire. She stepped behind him, rolled a gigantic canon in front of her, leaned back, braced herself and let the pulse sweep over the screaming Black Sun thugs. The metal and plastic burned noxiously when the returning blaster fire hit the white armor, but the woman stood her ground, unwavering. To follow the pulse, the explosive charges from her cannon poured over the knaves. One of them lost his nerve in the roaring flames, and peeled from the group to try to cut through with a vibrosword, away from the towering maiden. His luck held long enough for him to leave a nasty scratch on Aric's armor, but it got lost immediately between its many mates. Aric took the butt of his rifle to the man's head, crushing a side of his skull into bloody pulp. There was more than battle fury in his gesture. There was a palpable frustration.

"Target's down, Lt. Dur," Aric growled at his CO.

"Acquire the supplies," she commanded briskly, avoiding his strange eyes (think an improbable angle, shooting upwards at the corners; but not improbable with his cheekbones). Aric hesitated for a fraction of a moment.

"We are the BEST of the BEST!" She yelled at him. "We are the HAVOC SQUAD! We can do it!"

"YES, SIR!" Aric yelled back, without moving an inch.

"Damn it, Aric! If your CO tells you to go get the damned thing, you damn well get the DAMN THING! Now HOP TO IT!"

"Yes, Sir," Aric muttered and charged a huge pot of dirt with a vengeance. It was topped by a dainty vine studded with some bright orange flowers. Growling, the fierce Cathar warrior pulled the plant out, showering the CO's white armor with dirt in the process.

"The potted plant is ours, Sir! HURRAY!"

"Loose the root bulb!" Lt. Dur replied dryly.

"Understood, Sir," Aric said and a dangerous growl rose in his throat, "NO ROOT BULBS, SiIR!" He snapped the stem off. It broke, but did not give, a bundle of green strings holding it together. Aric ripped his service dagger out of the sheath, and slashed at the enemy viciously. The steel severed the stubborn greenery. He threw the roots back over his shoulder, fixing Glean Dur with an incinerating stare. Glean noted that the seemingly casually tossed roots hit the now empty pot square in the middle. He thrust the fragrant mass of green and orange into her arms: "Your flowers, SIR!"

Lt. Dur held the armful of the leaves and petals to her chest. The orange of the blooms set off the purple of her eyes, and the green of her skin. She took a careful sniff. "Well done, Sergeant Jorgan! Why I have half a mind to put you up for a medal."

Then Glean squeezed the blooms into her pack, crushing the whole thing into green goo.

"For the Republic! Move, move, MOVE!"

The potted plants and villainy all over Coruscant shook in their boots and planters.

/

"You requested to view the surveillance tapes showing anomalous behavior of the Havoc Squad, my Lord?"

Becchino nodded: "Must I repeat myself, Lieutenant?" With a crisp bow, Lieutenant started the recording. Becchino watched Glean Dur and Aric Jorgan's assault on the potted plant in silence. Then she turned to her subordinate: "Thoughts, Lieutenant?" Malavai Quinn paused. "I analysed the actions of the Squad, my Lord, and I nearly eliminated courting behavior. The possibility is still there, but I am inclined to believe that the plants may have a medicinal value. " Becchino nodded: "Republic scum is always searching for the ways to upstage us. Lieutenant, I want you to-" Quinn bowed again: "Of course, my Lord. From now on, I shall most carefully examine the local plant specimens. _If_ you think that's the best use of me." Becchino slowly turned her head and looked her Lieutenant up and down. Unreadable. Again.

"Stick to collecting scraps, Lieutenant. It suits you."


	2. Out of the Box

**Outside the Box**

Lt. Glean Dur scanned the location. "Wait, Sergeant," she said. "Waaaait…. Yes! See it! NOW, JORGAN! CHARGE!"

Sgt. Aric Jorgan exploded into action. He dropped to the floor and rolled past two elegantly attired Jedi; slipped between the legs of an enormous Knight, all hooded to hide the hideous scars; and shouldered a perky Twi'lek aside. "Carful there, pal!" a couple of smoky-eyed youths with braided hair chorused immediately, "that's a lady here." "Chill, Corso, I can take care of myself," the Twi'lek muttered and kicked at Jorgan's shins. A dusky looking stranger tapped the second braided one on the shoulder: "Hey, pay attention. I know it's hard, I know she's got breasts and everything…." He did a double take on the still smoldering Twi'lek. "Yeah, everything…."

The Sergeant ignored it, for he spotted his prize.

"I AM IN! ORDERS, SIR?!"

"GO!" Lt. Glean yelled above the din.

Jorgan shouldered his rifle and shot the cover off the mailbox. Ignoring the collective sigh of annoyance from the crowd, he pulled a bunch of padded envelopes out and waved them at Glean. Most of them bore a wide variety of Trading Network stamps and '_return to sender_' stickers.

"There is also a BOX, SIR!" He yelled, with a hint of surprise evident to a very, very attentive listener.

"Then GET IT, Sergeant! NOW! We're due to board for Taris at TWENTY-O-HUNDRED!" Glean shouted back.

Aric made a quick egress back to Lt. Dur. The box looked official, so the Lt. immediately cracked it open and the two of them peeked in.

"WHAT IN BLAZES, is THIS, Lt.?!"  
"Careful, Sgt. Careful… set it down… gently now… It could EXPLODE!"  
"WHAT?!"  
"WHO?!"  
"WHY?!"

/  
"More abnormalities in the surveillance, Lieutenant?" Lord Becchino asked softly when Malavai Quinn saluted her on the Bridge.

"Captain, My Lord," Malavai corrected quietly.

"Captain… what?" the Sith asked brusquely.

"My rank, My Lord. Perhaps you recall that I was promoted when we departed Balmorra. By Lord Barras," Malavai said the name respectfully.

Becchino gave her subordinate an amused look. "Do you suggest that I have missed this monumental occasion, Lieutenant?"

"No, My Lord. I merely… my remark was redundant, My Lord. Do you wish to review the records?" Malavai hoped that the tan that the harsh Tatooine suns bestowed on him made the color that rose to his cheeks less obvious.  
Becchino watched the holo in silence. Lt. Dur and her crony were testing a miniature astromech droid.

"Do you think the size makes it more adaptable, Lieutenant? It is still too large to be an effective spying device."

"My Lord, the droid does not have any practical functionality, as far as I can tell," Malavai replied.

"You have learned that from examining the holorecord? You are slipping, Lieutenant. Dur is not stupid enough to demonstrate the abilities of this new machine on the Fleet."

"No, My Lord. I examined the device personally, and at some length," Malavai reported matter-of-factly.

"You secured the device from Dur? From the heart of the Republic's military base?" Becchino asked.

Captain Quinn bowed: " I have my methods, My Lord."

"Well, I am impressed, Captain," Becchino's gorgeous Sith ridges moved upward a little. Quinn swallowed. He was walking on a thin ice, but it was worth it.

"So, what is it?"

"Unfortunately, My Lord, it is but a pet," Captain Quinn replied.

Becchino shook her head in disbelief. "A… a what?!"

"A pet, my Lord, " Captain Quinn repeated, then elaborated: "A small creature many sentients keep for pleasure, rather than utility. If you wish you could examine it yourself. You would come to the same conclusions as I did: the droid has no functionality, but to follow you around faithfully and look… adorable. "

"Ah, something like Slave?" Becchino pondered aloud. Captain Quinn did not feel it was his place to argue about Vette's position and purpose. His own was precarious enough. So he took the little droid out of the box, set it down by Lord Becchino's feet and left the Bridge.

On the way back he could not resist throwing a look behind his shoulder. The Sith Lord stood, frowning, her muscular arms folded across her chest. She stared intently at the small droid scuttling by her feet. Then she squatted down, extended her hand to touch the droid, and quickly pulled it away. And that's when she felt him looking. She lifted her head to stare back at him; her eyes started to glow. Captain Quinn's heart sank.

"Captain! Come back… deal with this… this… thing. Take it! Feed it… or… or something," if it were any other woman, Captain Quinn would have called her tone pleading. He allowed himself a short while to enjoy before responding with a deferential: "As you wish, My Lord."

All and all, he was exceedingly glad that the Sith Lords never checked their own mail.


	3. A Face Borrowed

_AN: Dusk Fell was the first character I created, but she got shouldered out of the way and ended up stuck on Dromund Kaas for now. I used the same format as the other Lord Becchino stories, to contrast her experiences with Dusk Fell's. **Spoilers:** Imperial Agent, the very second Class conversation… very slight!_

_In this country, who isn't a pretender?_

_from Tzars' Hunt_

"A _pirate_? Called _Red Blade_?!" Agent Dusk Fell exclaimed incredulously. "You can't be serious, Handler! I don't look an inch like a Red Blade!"

Jheeg responded with a long suffering pinch to his wide mouth. "But… Miss. Nobody knows the gender, species or appearance of the subject. It's perfect."

"Perfect?" Dusk Fell repeated, "perfect?!"

The Handler's eyes took on a sorrowful glint, as he strained to grasp the problem. Dusk Fell sighed: "Do all of us look the same to you, is that it?"

"Well…" Jheeg shrugged.

The Agent jabbed her finger into Jheeg's chest: "You listen to me then! A Red Blade brings to mind someone looking like a huge brute, a loud, obnoxious, bragging, half-drunk oaf! Whose one prized possession is a honking large vibrosword!"

Jheeg blinked.

"I am five foot tall on sensible heels!"

Jheeg sighed.

I am armed with a riffle!"

Jheeg licked his lips.

"I am a _Chiss_, Jheeg, a _Chiss!_ Can't we go with a _Blue_, erm… blue… something?"

Jheeg blinked again. "No, Miss, your papers are drafted for Red-"

Agent Dusk Fell slapped her fist on his desk, making him jump.

"Red… red can refer to your eyes, Miss," Jheeg suggested pulling his collar away from his scrawny neck.

"And the blade is my vibroknife, I suppose?" Dusk Fell asked quietly.

"Yes, yes…" Jheeg nodded enthusiastically, missing the acid in her tone.

She snaked across the table, grabbed his shirt, twisted and pulled him nose to nose with her. "Jheeg… Do. You. Have. Anything. Else."

"There is… there is this prostitute—" Jheeg stammered.

"I can work with this," Dusk Fell nodded, releasing him.

"..turned a pit-fighter…" Jheeg continued slumping back into his chair.

Dusk Fell frowned: "Perhaps…"

"a Twi'lek…" he said, leafing through a file on his desk.

Dusk Fell's exasperated breath almost blew him out of the doors. "You have a magic lekku growing paste?"

Jheeg wisely kept his mouth shut as Dusk Fell paced his tiny office.

She pulled her dark shades off. She drew her service knife from its secret sheath. Jheeg whimpered, but Dusk Fell simply attached it to the chain around her neck to display it prominently.

"Yo, mate, me cover gets blown, ye goin' t'dance out of me airlock," the Agent Dusk Fell… no, _Red Blade_ said, stomping towards the orange swamps of Hutta. There was a new swagger to her step, and Jheeg would have sworn that she loomed over things despite the diminutive height and insignificant bulk.

/

"My Lord?" Captain Quinn appealed for her attention. Lord Becchino turned from her contemplation of the Galaxy Map.

"Report," she commanded brusquely.

"Your agent is planted," Captain reported. There was a small something in her subordinate's tone that made her… curious.

"_More_ abnormalities, Captain?" Becchino loathed having to ask.

Captain Quinn hesitated: "No, my Lord. However, the cover story is not the most successful. The Agent might have difficulties adhering to it."

Ah. "Captain, I suggest you research the meaning of the word _dispensable_, and then type it a hundred times," Lord Becchino quietly suggested and turned back to the map.

Captain Quinn bowed to her back. "Of course, my Lord. I will bring my work for _your_ review once I am finished."

Lord Becchino barked through her gritted teeth: "Unnecessary, Captain."

A wishful thinking, that.


End file.
